


Last Time I Trusted You

by CumberWubWubWub



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Animal Ears, Elements, Familiars, Fox - Freeform, Fox!Bilbo, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Spirit Animals, hobbit au, mild sexual harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberWubWubWub/pseuds/CumberWubWubWub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is a hobbit, which means, of course, that he has a familiar. He's got fox ears, sharp hearing, and quick feet. Gandalf has used Bilbo's abilities to his advantage before, and Bilbo has never trusted him since. 20 years later, Gandalf comes to him for help once again, but this time he's bringing with him a loud, chaotic group of dwarves and a bag of empty promises. </p><p>Rated Teen and Up for now, though rating may change for later chapters. ***3/2/15: This has been on hiatus for a year and some months now, and that will continue for a while, probably until I own all of the movies and marathon them. You know, on the off-chance that I'm suddenly inspired to revisit this and read through my horrible writing again. I apologize for, like, everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Come Back Around

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying it out. This seemed like something I could work with, and surprisingly it was. So here you go, i hope you enjoy it.

Hobbits are strange little creatures, in many ways. They prefer to walk around barefoot, they spend seventy-five percent of their day eating, and they have unusually large families.  There gardens are plentiful, there books are well-worn, and their homes are in the ground.  Stories of hobbits travel far and wide because of their bright and strange culture. There are many other oddities that one could observe from this race, but the one trait that passersby usually notice are their familiars.

You see, hobbit children are born with animals that they are attuned to. No, the animal itself is not with them when they are born . . . but instead its attributes are. A little Halfling is born with physical characteristics of its familiar, such as the ears, the eyes, the tail, or what have you of a specific animal. They know not where these familiars come from or how they are decided upon, but it is an aspect of hobbit culture that is embraced and cherished by the people of the Shire. Hobbits are the only species in Middle Earth to have familiars, so it is not a very common thing to see. Elves have a more indirect form of familiars, in which they only bond with certain animals throughout their immortal lives, but this isn’t directly comparable to the peculiarity of Shire folk. They keep to themselves anyway, and the added mystery of familiars only makes them more curious to outsiders. As a Halfling child grows older, it begins to represent the more intimate traits of the familiar, and makes itself known through behavioral patterns. A child with the familiar of an owl will be drawn to the night and quick on their feet. If that child has the familiar of a dog, they will be loyal and aggressive when they need to be.

Gandalf the Grey had always been entranced by the mystery of Hobbits, and he was much acquainted with the lovely people. He was a familiar face around the Shire, so Bilbo wasn’t very surprised to see him one bright and sunny morning while smoking his pipe on his front porch.

Bilbo squinted ahead at the sudden shadow cast over him. He nodded at Gandalf in greeting. “Good morning.”

“What do you mean?”

Bilbo’s slight smile dropped.

“Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on? Hmm?”

Bilbo and Gandalf stared without breaking the other’s gaze. But suddenly Gandalf’s robe billowed in the slight breeze coming from the west and that had them laughing and hollering. Gandalf stepped forward and gave Bilbo a fond pat on the shoulder.

“Oh, Bilbo, how wonderful it is to see you.”

“Yes, it must be,” Bilbo said merrily, waving the narrow end of his pipe in the air. “I haven’t seen you around these parts in nearly three years.”

“Oh, well, yes, I had other business to attend to, mainly in Lothlorien and the White Mountains. Purely business, and rather boring. I’m glad to have a break.” Gandalf smiled quaintly and gestured at Hobbiton with his staff.

Bilbo knitted his brow in confusion. “If you are so glad to have this beloved respite, then why did you come here? Why come from boring business to a place that you, as a wizard, should consider boring?”

Gandalf chuckled. “Can’t I visit a few old friends and simply enjoy the company?”

Bilbo puffed his pipe and considered the wizard. “No, no, this is something else, Gandalf, I’ve seen that look before. You look quite suspicious.”

Gandalf stared at Bilbo as his face went blank. Bilbo’s ears twitched with nerves, the red fur catching the old wizard’s attention and giving him resolve.

“I need someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo stood abruptly. “An adventure? No, no, no. We won’t be having ANY adventures here, Gandalf the Grey, not after what happened last time. Not today, not tomorrow. I suggest you try Over the Hill, or . . . Across the Water.”

Bilbo’s heart was fluttering in his chest like a caged butterfly.  He did a half-turn to his door and back to Gandalf, and uttered a final “Good morning” before entering his hobbit-hole and slamming the door behind him.

Bilbo could almost hear Gandalf’s voice in his head, like it was only twenty  years ago. Bilbo had tried to forget and forgive, but he wasn’t sure he could forgive Gandalf for imposing these bloody _quests_ on him a second time. He didn’t believe that he was being irrational, no, not at all. This was perfectly fine. He shouldn’t feel bad at _all_ for saying no. He wished that he had said no all those years ago and saved himself the trouble. He didn’t need to hear Gandalf’s argument for it. Hearing it once had been enough, surely.

_”Bilbo, you have the familiar of a fox. Now I don’t believe you realize just how special that makes you. You have the elements of intuition and surprise on your side, and that is nothing to scoff at. You’ll get us far in this adventure, and I would greatly appreciate your help.”_

Back then Bilbo was a keen lad of only 30 – he’d not even been a man! He was eagerly persuaded by Gandalf’s words, and he ended up being so badly hurt that he never wanted to relive the experience again.

Curse Gandalf for using his familiar against him. Curse him for letting Bilbo believe that his particular gifts would help anyone. Curse him for everything!

Bilbo whimpered and drew in a deep breath. Nothing good came out of panic or anger. Deep breath in . . . and out. Bilbo slid down to the floor and huddled into himself, surprised at himself and at Gandalf. He tried to understand anything about this situation, but he came up blank.

Bilbo lifted his hand to gently stroke the pads of his fingers against his fox ears. They twitched and turned, as natural a movement as any other, and Bilbo closed his eyes, heaving a deep, broken sigh.

He didn’t know if he was going to be allowed to sit this one out. And, he was scared to admit, he wasn’t all that opposed to the idea of another, different adventure.


	2. Arrival of the Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is basically an introduction to the dwarves (not a complete introduction, that comes in the next chapter, which will be longer and hopefully written with more effort and skill). It strays from canon a bit, since obviously this is an AU, and canon shouldn't bother me as much as it does, but I really care about perfect lines and shit that doesn't even apply here and now.
> 
> Anyway, yes, introduction, some hobbity anger and food, and don't worry, the "familiar" thing will be a more prominent theme in the later chapters, once they begin their journey and have more getting-to-know-you time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you will enjoy. It's late, and I am putting a lot of time, risk, and effort into this story.

Bilbo padded carefully upon his floor that night, preparing his fish at the stove and buttering up his scones. He whistled happily as the fish sizzled in the pan, and he shook it by the handle a bit before smiling in anticipation. He was eager for dinner today, and he even had a very special supper planned for himself. It wasn’t big, but it was special. He had recently been gifted an organic and rather expensive bottle of honey from Hamfast, and he was enthusiastic to try it out for the first time. His toes curled at the thought.

No matter how strong and distracting the aroma of food was to his train of thought, he couldn’t help but think back to the encounter with Gandalf that morning. How curious it had been to see him after so many years, and how astounding it was that Gandalf actually proposed that he come on another quest. Damn Gandalf and his quests. Bilbo hardly needed that raggedy old wizard anyhow.

But maybe, Bilbo thought, he shouldn’t have been so hard on him. Maybe he should have actually considered the proposal before his rather chaotic and nervous refusal. He found that now, hours after the incident, he didn’t see the idea in as negative a light as before. And maybe if he had been a bit more open-minded and optimistic, he would have realized that he _wanted_ this. Maybe not specifically, but Bilbo’s Took blood was getting a bit tired of the same old thing. He didn’t want to dwell in this hobbit-hole for every single day of his life. He wanted more.

Bilbo sighed and turned his attentions back onto his food. He carefully scraped underneath the prepared fish with a spatula and set it onto his plate. After the final touches had been arranged, admiring the feast with a barely contained moan, he tucked his napkin into his collar and –

Bilbo jumped at the deafening pounding on his door.

He also made some noise akin to a growl as he stood to greet the offender, but that was left unheard by any necessary listener.

With caution, Bilbo approached his door and swung it open none too delicately.

On the other side was a giant, bald, tattoo-riddled dwarf.

A few awkward moments of bewilderment passed between them.

And a few more.

Bilbo cleared his throat and looked into the eyes of his visitor. If he hadn’t been thinking properly, he would have chastised this dwarf for being absent of manners, but he was thinking properly, so he tried to put himself in different shoes.

He’s guessing that his visitor didn’t quite expect to see a small, round hobbit with the ears of a fox. Simple as that.

There were many words for what Bilbo was feeling right now, but he didn’t quite possess the vocabulary to properly identify them. In its most basic form, he was annoyed more than anything. His delicious, fresh meal was being interrupted by an unwelcome visitor who, at the moment, was only _just_ overcoming his initial surprise and lack of manners.

“Dwalin,” he introduced himself, “at your service.” As he spoke these words, he gave something resembling a bow, but the movements were unsure and fitful.

“Bilbo Baggins,” he returned, nodding his head briskly, “at yours.”

They stood in silence and no small amount of discomfort for a few moments until Bilbo remembered how to treat a . . . guest.

“Would – would you like to come in? I-I’ve got food. If you’re hungry, that is.” He gestured weakly over his shoulder. He was lost. He had no idea what to do in this sort of situation.

Dwalin looked cautious, but nodded his head eagerly and entered the house with his boots clopping loudly. He followed Bilbo into the kitchen and sat down in Bilbo’s chair. He ate the fish first, bones and all. Bilbo’s eyes would have popped out from pressure if he had opened them any wider. Dwalin finished the fish by stuffing the entire head into his mouth and chewing with great chomps of his jaw. With his cheeks full and his mustache which resembled whiskers, his chewing lent him an almost fish-like appearance himself. Bilbo acerbically wondered if that suddenly made Dwalin a cannibal.

Dwalin ate next the side of corn and Bilbo’s Secret Recipe Mashed Potatoes. Bilbo could have shed a tear if he was so inclined – those mashed potatoes were special and took much preparation, and this dwarf just scarfed them down without even tasting anything,

Dwalin looked at Bilbo appreciatively. “Very good, this. Any more?”

Bilbo came back to himself a few seconds after the question had been asked, which seemed rather rude on his part, and something he would never do again. “O-oh. Yes.”

The plate of scones was gone too quickly as well. As Dwalin approached his eighth morsel, another knock came at the door.

Bilbo’s eyes widened and he reflexively glanced at Dwalin.

“That’ll be the door,” the dwarf said slowly. Bilbo backed away and rushed to the door. He wondered who it was this time.

Surprise, surprise! Another dwarf. This one was a good deal older and seemingly wiser. He only appeared taken aback for a quick second, but he composed himself with a polite introduction.

“Balin, at your service.”

Oh great, rhyming names.

“Bilbo, at yours. Wh –”

“Oho! Evening, brother.”

Bilbo stared off in somber silence as the apparent _brothers_ greeted each other. Why was this happening? _Why_ was this _happening_? Who were these people? Why here?

Bilbo almost screamed in frustration, but his instinct told him that it was impolite to act so rude in front of guests. He followed Balin’s trail of mud into the pantry and listened to the brothers converse about food and meetings and something about other people – other people? You’ve got to be joking – and then their voices dropped into such a low register that Bilbo couldn’t hear them for a few seconds, but he felt that they were quickly mentioning the anomaly of Bilbo’s ears. Bilbo was about to confront them when there was yet another knock at the door.

Bilbo angrily stalked up to the door and what he saw caused a small whimper to escape his lips. He had never seen such handsome young lads in his life, especially not so close to one another.

“Fili –″

“And Kili –”

“At your service.”

They both bowed in unison and barged inside of Bagend.

Bilbo’s voice had been quelled, it seemed, for an indeterminable amount of time, and it irritated him to no end to not be able to get a word of protest in anywhere. He heard the lads greet Dwalin and Balin, but he didn’t hear much else, for he was seething with rage.

And when Fili – or Kili? The blond one, whichever one he was – dumped his weapons in Bilbo’s hands, the dam broke.

Bilbo tossed the bundle down onto the floor – any damage would be regretted at a later time – and opened his mouth to _scream_.

He was, unsurprisingly, interrupted by what he hoped was the last knock on any sort of surface that he would ever hear for the rest of his life.

“No, no, there is nobody home!” Yes, of course, nobody. Even though at the moment there were four more residents than need be. “Go away, and bother somebody else. There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is!”

He opened the door only to be attacked by a toppling group of what he assumed were all dwarves. He stared at them incredulously, and looked around outside to see if anyone had seen this respectable hobbit suddenly give a horde of dwarves admission to his humble abode. Who stared back at him, however, was Gandalf the Grey.

He did not look sorry at all, but Bilbo would soon change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and (polite) criticism are always welcome. Thank you for reading this far. I should have another chapter up soon.


	3. Far Over Mist and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves make a mess of Bagend, and Bilbo is frustrated. I was going to put an "until blah blah blah" in there, but I realized that, no, he's pretty frustrated throughout the entire chapter. A bit angsty, so on, so forth. Gandalf tries to persuade Bilbo to come on the quest, and Bilbo is unsure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday I'm really going to wish I had spent more time with editing. And I might, someday, just go back over everything.
> 
> If you guys want a link to my tumblr, you only have to ask. But until you do, I'm not going to shove my url into your face.

Eight dwarves. Eight. The number that walked – fell – through the door. Bilbo was absolutely clueless as to how he was supposed to accommodate twelve dwarves.

So he sat on his floor with his back against the wall and stared blankly as his pantry was raided.

It was all he could do, really. He had already attempted to take about seven pounds of his own cheese back from the very round dwarf, and that had not worked at all. He would make Gandalf pay for all of his food. And for the floors to be cleaned. No way was he getting out of this one so easily.

As if Bilbo’s thoughts alone had summoned him, Gandalf suddenly appeared at his side, a towering monstrosity compared to Bilbo’s hunched form.

“Bilbo, my dear man, get up from the floor. We are having quite a merry feast and it would be lovely if you would join us.” Gandalf wrung his hands and smiled politely.

“Join you?” Bilbo asked vehemently, clambering to stand on his feet. “Why would I ever join you? I will not! You and your gang have wrecked the integrity of my cozy, clean hobbit-hole! There is no measure for how angry I am, wizard.”

Gandalf had the certain nerve to look surprised at Bilbo’s outburst. “Oh, Bilbo, this has all been for a reason, don’t you fret. And I know the dwarves may seem messy, but they are not rude. They will most certainly clean up after themselves.”

A skinny dwarf with star-shaped hair passed by with a shout of, “You bet your wrinkly arse we will!”

Gandalf smiled, alarmed but pleased.

Bilbo huffed and walked into his dining room where a food fight was currently taking place, his ears twitching and his tail straining to be released from the confines of his drawers. He tried to calm himself down. Deep breath, Bilbo Baggins, deep breath.

The meal passed by in a blur of flying food, dripping ale, and laughter. Bilbo certainly wasn’t laughing.

Especially when they started singing. Plates flying everywhere, cutlery being tossed and knives being thrown. Bilbo was almost skewered, but a dwarf with gravity-defying braids and a silly hat pulled him out of the way in time. Bilbo was given a bright and charming smile that dazed him for a few seconds until he remembered how mad he was. He uttered and quick “thank you” and stomped into his dining room to find Gandalf.

“That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”

He entered just as their song died, and saw that all of his plates had been neatly cleaned and stacked. He stopped short and stared with wide eyes at the wizard. Gandalf just laughed and Bilbo just wanted to punch him in the face.

And just when Bilbo thought things couldn’t get any worse, another knock at the door. Bilbo hoped that it was the sweet knock of Death.

Unfortunately it wasn’t. Though when Gandalf opened the door with everyone nervously waiting behind him, Bilbo realized that it wasn’t too unfortunate.

Bilbo was certain that the door had opened to reveal a god. Or a nymph. Or any sort of magical creature with the ability to make itself look like sex.

Gandalf’s voice interrupted Bilbo’s staring. “Thorin Oakenshield,” he said slowly.

What a gorgeous name.

The sex god turned his head to look at Gandalf with a fond smirk. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.” Thorin took off one of his layers and handed it to Kili. “I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

Thorin did a quick scan of the area with those piercing eyes of his, until his eyes finally rested on Bilbo’s small form. His eyes lingered on the ears, and he looked about to ask questions, but something must have stopped him.

“So.” His eyes raked over Bilbo’s body and Bilbo was sure he whimpered. “This is the hobbit.”

Thorin said nothing else for a little while. He seemed to be observing. Bilbo’s pulse was pounding in his ears, and his tail desperately needed to be freed, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His ears trembled under the scrutiny of Thorin’s gaze, and they almost folded down onto his head as if he were a frightened cat. Almost.

Bilbo thought that Thorin would never stop staring at him, but he was wrong, because Kili suddenly had an outburst that made everyone look at him. “Look at his ears!”

Bilbo gasped, offended that the lad would say such a thing so rudely. Suddenly half the company was asking questions about the ears.

“Why does he have ears?”

“Is he some sort of half-breed?”

“Does he have a tail?”

“He’s adorable.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure how to feel about that last statement, but his instinct was an immediate jump to anger, and he opened his mouth to shout.

Thorin beat him to it. He shouted something loud and angry that wasn’t in common tongue. Everyone was silenced, and Bilbo said a silent thank you with his eyes. Thorin chose to ignore it.

Great. A sex god with a superiority complex.

As everyone gathered back into the dining room to discuss business, Gandalf explained to Bilbo that Thorin was king. He also took the time to teach Bilbo the names of everyone sitting at his table, but Bilbo stopped him short.

“I think I might have to do that on my own time.” Or not at all. Exactly why would he need their names or ever want to see them again?

Bilbo joined the congregation at the table and listened to what was being discussed. His Majesty was eating a bowl of what appeared to be soup as his company reported to him what had been happening. He had some tales to tell of his own, about some folk in the Iron Hills. The true purpose of this discussion was reached after what seemed a decade of idle chit-chat. A quest to reclaim a mountain, apparently. A mountain. A mountain?

And what was all this “birds of yore” business? A sort of prophecy? These dwarves seemed insane.

And then he was handed a contract and told that he was to agree to be the “burglar” of the company.

“But I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!” Yeah, apparently that didn’t matter when everyone else in the room was older than you and equipped with several different weapons underneath their clothes.

The contract said all sorts of silly things, mentioning funerals, and incineration, and profit. Legal terms flooded his mind and made him almost sick. This was preposterous. He didn’t need to waste his time reading a contract when he already knew he wasn’t accompanying them.

After reading a good portion of the contract, he huffed in annoyance, folded it, and entered his room, ignoring calls from Gandalf and slamming the door behind him.

He wasn’t going to do this. It just wasn't going to happen. He sat on his bed and held his head between his hands. His breathing was erratic, and it didn’t seem like it was going to calm down any time soon.

Thoughts were whirling through his head and he didn’t know how to interpret them or, more importantly, how to control them. One minute he was very motivated to help these people reclaim whatever mountain this was and be a hero in their eyes, and the next moment he felt like such a failure. He felt as if he couldn’t be trusted to help. Like he would mess everything up somehow.

He heard his door creak open, and light entered the dim room. Footsteps approached him and the door slowly clicked shut.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said, seemingly unsure. “I know that you do not desire to hear anything that I have to say. Nevertheless, I am very sorry. For everything. And I am very sorry that what happened all those years ago may be why you do not wish to come on this quest.” Gandalf paused to think.

Since when did he ever need to think? He always knew what to say, Bilbo had believed. These were strange circumstances indeed.

“I hope you are able to see light on this subject, dear boy. These dwarves are willing and capable to reclaim a home that was stolen from them. That dragon did them no kindness.” Gandalf seemed at a loss for words. Again, strange. “I want you to remember, Bilbo, that whatever you may choose, the time will come when you had wished to have taken the chance for another adventure. One where you may be of great importance, and stand on better feet.”

Bilbo waited with bated breath as Gandalf took his leave. Gandalf seemed so unsure of himself this night that it scared Bilbo. Gandalf knew that there was no way to persuade Bilbo to ever risk something like that ever again, and yet he desperately needed him to, and Bilbo could see that. Bilbo wondered when Gandalf would finally realize that the pedestal that he had put the hobbit on was massive and imposing compared to his true capabilities.

In a room not far from his own, Bilbo heard a song. A low humming, whispering deeply through the halls of his house and lulling him to sleep.  He heard a sorrowful tale of a lost mountain, a wondrous and sturdy people forced to watch their home burn.

Bilbo fell asleep to the description of fire, and flames danced behind his eyelids as he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works inspired by this one (i'm pretty sure they are):
> 
> http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q15/kotoha/Mobile%20Uploads/image.jpg
> 
> http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q15/kotoha/Mobile%20Uploads/image-1.jpg
> 
> (Both by Kotoha, and thanks again <3)


	4. The Complications of Pain and How to be as Innapropriate as Possible Without Being Absurd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a (what I consider to be) GIANT introduction to what Bilbo's familiar has gifted him on his backside. This is where the mild sexual harassment comes in, and if you've read a lot of scandalous Hobbit fanfiction before, you can probably guess who it is coming from. Bilbo makes his first friend, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me. Also, to anyone who is a bit confused and angry because of of Bilbo's rather frustrating and submissive demeanor, THERE IS A REASON FOR THAT SO DON'T COMPLAIN TO ME JUST YET. It makes me mad, too. But don't worry. He will be a fierce warrior soon enough, with the right help. Very different than, yet just as courageous and adorable as, canon Bilbo.

Bilbo woke after the sun rose, and looked around his home with relief, for the dwarves and their entire mess seemed to be gone. _Seemed_ to be. So Bilbo took the precaution of tip-toeing through his halls and peeking his head around corners anyway. He did a silent cheer as he realized that he was entirely alone, and his tail swished around happily.

He pattered over to the kitchen, but he noticed something before he could get too far. The contract was still lying on the table, the length of it unfolded, and the regal signature of Thorin Oakenshield staring at him accusingly from where it lay at the bottom of the parchment. Bilbo was unsure.

The dwarves were giving him a way out; that much was clear because obviously they were gone and Bilbo left behind. However, they were also giving him a way in. And it was tempting. The dwarves were gone, which made Bilbo a bit panicked. It was now or never. He only realized how much he wanted to leave this dull and boring place when the dwarves were gone. It seemed a bit like he was _meant_ to be there, and that they were abandoning him.

This made Bilbo flinch in realization. Damn him, to want to go on this blasted adventure, when he was trying to prove to that wizard that he was an independent soul who could find his own way. He genuinely sought to be a part of this. He wished to leave Bagend, to make his heart race with fear and excitement. Mostly he wanted to help the dwarves reclaim their home.

He didn’t care what kind of animosity he held between Gandalf and himself. He would not let that wizard stand in the way of his desire to help.

Bilbo signed the contract, packed his bag, and continued lying to himself about why he was going on this quest as he ran out his door.

\--

Bilbo ran and ran until he finally spotted the dwarves, and the relief that filled his chest was almost embarrassing. The contract waved above his head like a flag as his legs moved faster. His bare feet snapped twigs and smashed vegetation, and his ears lay flat against his head. His tail was annoyingly confined within his trousers, but that mattered little. He had to do it, and really all that mattered at the moment was reaching the company. He was excited. He was pumped full of adrenaline. And it was amazing.

“Wait!” He shouted ahead, but to no avail. He tried again. “Waaaaaait!” He shouted even louder, and he saw Thorin slow to a stop and force his pony to turn around. He looked angry, but Bilbo hoped that it was just because he was far away.

The rest of the company pulled on the reins of their hairy beasts as well, and soon everyone was looking at him. He slowed as he reached them, a smile glowing on his face, and presented the contract proudly. “I signed it.”

Balin carefully extracted it from his hands and examined the signature closely. He gave Bilbo a sly smile. “Everything seems to be in order.”

Bilbo smiled, genuinely smiled, for the first time in a long time. He knew he was part of something amazing, and he had much faith that they would pull through. Never mind Gandalf.  They would sort things through between them eventually, but Bilbo didn’t believe he had the patience for that right now.

Bilbo turned his attention to Thorin, as he _was_ the leader of this group. Thorin seemed surprised. And up close, he still looked angry. Bilbo’s stomach settled in an odd way. This didn’t seem like it was going to be a smooth ride.

“Somebody get him a pony.” Thorin glared and turned back around, once again setting off with his company behind him.

Oh, no. This was _definitely_ not going to be a smooth ride. He couldn’t ride a pony! He couldn’t sit down . . . because . . . well, because he’d be sitting right on his tail! His tail, when confined in his trousers, was usually tucked between his buttocks, as embarrassing as that was to admit. And he sure as all couldn’t take his tail _out_. That was unheard of! The tail, if a hobbit has one, is a private part of the body, and should not be seen by anyone but the hobbit or their lover.

And Bilbo’s tail was very sensitive . . . it would not do to sit on it! He quickly explained that he did not need a pony.

“No, no! That won’t be necessary! I’ll do best with walking, thank you. I’ve been on a few walking holidays. Even went as far as Frogmorton once –”

Fili and Kili reached for him, but he quickly dodged their hands and yelled “NO!”

The brothers looked surprised at Bilbo’s speed and the intensity of his refusal, but he was not put off.

“Sorry, lads, but that will NOT be happening.”

Bilbo tried to make them understand using the power of his mind, but that didn’t seem to work. They tried again, but Bilbo, again, was faster. They made quite a fuss where they were, and it was drawing interest from the other dwarves.

Thorin’s attentions were focused on Bilbo, and the hobbit hadn’t even realized it.

“Is there a problem, burglar?”

Bilbo’s eyes widened exponentially. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. Five minutes into the journey, and he was already experiencing a big problem.

“They are trying to put me on a pony.”

Thorin glared. “And what is the problem with that?”

Bilbo spluttered. He wanted to just come out and say it, screw all of this skirting-around-the-subject business, but he knew that it would be impolite and inappropriate. None of them even knew of his tail, except Gandalf, but the wizard was of no help. And really, his tail was _private_. They might not think so, but his instinct as a hobbit was to keep this to himself.

“I would much rather like to walk, thank you very much.”

Surprisingly, it was Gloin who responded. “Look, laddie, I know that yer feet are sturdier and hairier than a troll’s arse, but this journey is a loooong way te walk.”

Thorin sighed. “You take a pony, halfling, or you are left behind. Make your choice.”

Bilbo stared in shock. He almost wanted to cry, but that was a very uncharacteristic thing for him to do, and he didn’t want to make the impression that he was a weak thing and shouldn’t be going on this quest.

His ears moved to lay flat on his head as he felt more and more cornered. He rattled around in his brain for an alternate solution, but he could find none. He hadn’t run all this way and built up his courage so much just to be left behind. And so he made his decision.

“All right – all right. But could you give me a minute? Just a minute to myself, and I will be on that pony.” He looked Thorin square in the eyes and hoped for the best.

“Fine.” Thorin looked loath to say it, but Bilbo wasn’t going to get picky. “You have one minute.”

Bilbo shot him a grateful look and dashed behind the nearest tree. He heard some of the dwarves make confused noises, and some asked questions, but Bilbo ignored them all.

He looked around and found no one watching, so he quickly pulled down the bum of his trousers and . . . got himself situated. Meaning to say, he pulled out his tail and sighed in relief at the feeling of freedom. He arranged his trousers around his tail as far as they would go. He’d never had to do this before, and the feeling was weird. Part of his bum was showing.  He almost wanted to tuck his tail back in and deal with it, but he could barely sit on his tail in a cushioned chair without hissing in pain. He made some futile attempts to cover himself up more with the back of his shirt, but if he was sitting down, that wouldn’t matter anyway. His bum was going to play peek-a-boo no matter what he did, so he peered out from behind the tree and walked forward, putting on his bravest face.

All of the dwarves looked his way as he emerged and stared in shock. His tail was flicking from side to side behind him, and most all of them could see it clearly.

“I knew it,” whispered Nori.

Someone gave a low whistle.

Bilbo’s face turned red, but he kept it set in a stern expression. “Right, then. Where’s my pony?”

Kili led Bilbo to his pony, Myrtle, and helped him up. Kili’s eyes lingered on Bilbo’s body lower than he was comfortable with, and Bilbo cleared his throat loudly. Kili turned away and remounted his own horse.

Well, that was one of the worst ordeals in Bilbo’s entire life.

He insisted on staying in the back of the group so that no one could stare at his tail, or worse, his partially exposed bum, but Nori, with twinkly eyes and a dry mouth, insisted on riding behind Bilbo. Bilbo was panicking. He desperately wanted to be the last, but even the other dwarves agreed that a more capable rider should be positioned at the back to keep everyone in check, and apparently Nori was one of the best.

The dwarf in the hat – Bilbo believed his name was Bofur – slowed a bit to be next to Bilbo. Bilbo looked at him, shocked and a bit nervous.

Bofur gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t ya worry about Nori, Master Baggins. He’s a right pervert but he’s harmless, I swear.”

That didn’t do a lot to make Bilbo feel better, but he appreciated the attempt, and gave Bofur a smile of his own.

Bofur gave Bilbo a moment of consideration before rummaging through a bag on his own pony and producing a folded blanket. “If it’ll make you feel any better, you can use this to cover yourself up.”

Bilbo sputtered and looked at Bofur with wide eyes, overtly grateful. “Oh, thank you! That is very kind!”

Bilbo took the blanket form Bofur and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was long enough to drape over the pony’s sides and cover Bilbo pretty effectively. Behind the blanket, his bum and tail were concealed, but his tail could move around freely. It was perfect, and he thanked Bofur again.

“Oh, don’t mention it. See, I can be practical when it’s necessary.” He seemed proud of himself, and they shared a laugh.

They made conversation for the rest of the day, and Bilbo found that Bofur really seemed like a kindred spirit. He found himself caring less and less about his tail as they talked. He was glad to have made a friend so early on, and hoped that he had a good connection with everyone else as well.

He really felt as if this journey was going to turn out for the better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome. So are kudo's (I have no idea if that is how it is spelled but I've seen it that way so what the hell). Probably kudos's. That seems right.
> 
> Anyway. I love you for sticking with this story, you are all just really so amazing, especially if you have just witnessed the absurdity of this chapter despite what it says in the title. Lots of love <3


	5. Tailor My Clothes and Hurt My Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is making more and more friends, and they promise to make his time with them as enjoyable as possible. But will the dwarven king allow it to be as simple as that?
> 
> CUTE ORI AND OTHER CHARACTERS AND THEN THORIN HAS TO FUCK IT ALL UP. (more of his fuckery in the later chapters, only hints of it here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, this chapter really explores more of Bilbo's background in the Shire, and how he feels about the company. I enjoyed writing, but I can't guarantee that it will be the most interesting or even coherent thing to read, but I feel like it IS necessary (and of course that's why I wrote it). It's not super-long, so you can get through it without a lot of trouble. iT'S jUsT VeRY iMPorTaNT tO biLBO's cHARACTeR TraNSfORmAtiON AnD iT nEeDS to BE tHERe.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also a lot of notes at the bottom. If you could read those all the way through, I'd love that. Thank you <3

Bilbo was proud of himself. One week into the journey and he has already befriended Bofur, Fili, Kili, Dori, and Ori. To be quite honest, he was scared to approach any of the others simply because of their countenance. Most all of them seemed bitter about his presence – or just bitter in general, he couldn’t tell – and so his reluctance stood. He bonded with Bofur easily and strongly. They were becoming fast friends, and Bilbo could even confide in him about the how he felt towards the rest of the company without worrying that Bofur would betray his confidence or feel negatively toward the hobbit. Bilbo quite liked Fili and Kili, and really he couldn’t pinpoint their individual bonds because they were just that – Fili _and_ Kili, a pair – and he enjoyed the company of both of them. Dori was domestic in a way that none of the other dwarves were, and he and Bilbo had chats about food, gardening, and when Bilbo was up to it, Dori taught him about mining, a job that he did on the side, and tinkering, which was a topic that Bilbo found he enjoyed. Bilbo enjoyed the company of Ori very much, as the dwarrow had an air of innocence and excitement that he didn’t find in the other members of the company, except perhaps for Fili and Kili.

Bilbo was having a chat with the lad as they stopped for the night, having found a nice place to eat and rest.

Ori smiled at him as the previous topic of conversation burned out. It wasn’t awkward at all, which Bilbo was grateful for. He found that nothing was ever awkward between himself and the dwarves that were actually fond of him. He usually had much to talk about with them, and when he didn’t, he simply enjoyed the company too much to feel like something actually _needed_ to be talked about.

This never happened to him in the Shire. He was seen as an outcast, for obvious reasons. For one, his mother. She had been considered something of a harlot (by hobbit standards) when she was younger, because she went on a few short, mysterious adventures with an old wizard to places unknown. To add to that, Bilbo himself had gone on an adventure, and there were rumors. Horrible, gruesome rumors that were sometimes not far from the truth. Bilbo’s familiar was a fox, as well, which had some implications that Bilbo wasn’t too fond of. They were assumptions made by the entirety of the Shirefolk based on past instances. These “past instances” were over 2,000 years old, and Bilbo thought that the records should be obsolete by now, but they weren’t. The records were the reason he was ostracized for his familiar. Having a fox as a familiar was said to have proven dangerous and mysterious in the past. This was why no one talked to Bilbo except for his faithful gardener Hamfast Gamgee.

Bilbo, as much as he was disliked in the company, was grateful for the few friends that he had made, because he found more warmth and friendship in this group of thirteen than he had found his entire life in the whole Shire.

And it _wasn’t_ awkward.

Ori turned his head towards Bilbo and looked about to say something, but he appeared to think better of it.

“What is it, Ori?” Bilbo wanted to hear what he had to say, because as far as he was concerned, everything that came out of Ori’s mouth was a delight to hear.

Ori blushed and met Bilbo’s eyes. “Ummm, Mr. Bilbo, I was, um, wondering if I could . . . possibly help? I mean it’s not really my place to bring it up, and of course I’ll only help if you want me to. Umm.” He faltered for a bit and blushed even more furiously.

Bilbo urged him to say what was on his mind as the dwarrow dismounted his pony. Bilbo followed suit and walked over to him, stopping Ori from avoiding his gaze. “Ori, really, what is it?”

Ori took a deep breath. Without looking away, he blurted out, “I was wondering if you would like it if I tailored your trousers to accommodate your tail without you having to pull them down!”

Bilbo stared in shock, and some of the other members of the company did, too.

Bilbo had long gotten over the fear of the others seeing his tail, but it was still a bit awkward and uncomfortable for his bum to always be half-exposed. He liked the idea, and he was curious as to how Ori would manage it.

“Wh – You mean like cut a hole in them?” Bilbo was curious, but tailoring his trousers seemed a bit absurd. He supposed, if it was indeed _practical_ , that he should humor the lad.

“Well, not so base as that, Mr. Bilbo. I’d tailor them carefully and expertly so that you can fit your tail through them.” Ori seemed a bit braver about that topic now that Bilbo was taking interest, and though he still had a slight blush on his cheeks, there was a twinkle in his eye that Bilbo quite liked. They unpacked their bedrolls for the night as Bombur was busy making dinner. They discussed a few possible ways that the tailoring could work, and they both quite liked the method of cutting an X into a set diameter, folding the four flaps back, and sewing them down.

Bilbo was disgruntled when Ori told him that he needed to measure the width of his tail. “I’m not so sure that I want to do that. Could I do it myself? If you trust my skills at measurement?”

Ori was quick to approve. “Oh, yes, Mr. Bilbo! I wasn’t proposing that _I_ measure your tail, no, of _course_ not!” Ori, unsurprisingly, blushed.

“No need to worry, Ori. All is well.” Bilbo laughed to disperse the tension, and walked off to measure his tail. Once he was covered by enough darkness, he fit his hand around his tail and estimated the diameter. He reported back to Ori.

After that, he needed to take off his trousers, of course, so that Ori could work on them. Bofur let Bilbo wear his extra pair. They were a bit baggy and smelly, but that was to be expected.

They spent the rest of the night fixing Bilbo’s trousers. Bilbo, of course, brought Ori everything he needed and offered a few suggestions. The only break they took was to eat the delicious supper and chatter happily about how the project was coming along.

About two hours after the sun set, Ori finished. It had taken longer than expected, but it really was the work of an expert. Bilbo thanked Ori multiple times and tried them on a few feet away. It took no small amount of precision to get his tail through the back without hurting himself or disrupting the fur. He managed it, though, to his immense delight.

It was a perfect fit. He jogged over to Ori to thank him again. A few members of the company came over to pat Ori on the back and to look at the final product of his work.

Bilbo was so pleased that he barely noticed Thorin approach him.

The king placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo jumped in shock and spun around to face the brooding visage that Thorin was sporting. This didn’t seem good.

“Come with me, Halfling.”

Bilbo hesitantly followed him into a partially isolated area under a few trees. They could still see and hear the group, and some even gazed their way, wondering what was going on.

“Burglar,” Thorin said coldly, drawing Bilbo’s eyes back to him.

“Is something wrong?” Bilbo tried not to fidget, he really did. But when an angry dwarf king is towering above one’s head, you can bet that it’s a very frightening experience.

“You’ve spent too much time making friends and sitting idly by.” Thorin fixed Bilbo with an even colder stare then before, and Bilbo froze, wondering if he’d done something wrong. What _exactly_ was Thorin getting at?

Thorin continued, speaking slowly and deeply. Bilbo couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, so he looked at the way the dwarf’s lips moved as he spoke.

“You are to start training with a sword. I’ve asked Dwalin to help, and he has agreed.”

Bilbo sighed internally. Training seemed absurd. Bilbo was already more adept at handling a sword than he cared to admit. He wondered if he should tell Thorin this, but decided against it. Dwalin would figure it out eventually and tell Thorin anyway.

Bilbo tried to walk away, but Thorin called him back. “Burglar.”

Instead of walking back to him, Bilbo simply turned around. “Yes?”

“This quest isn’t fun and games. You must work hard to gain your strength, and that means less chatting. You are not here on a vacation, Halfling, remember that.”

Bilbo stomped up to him and looked him straight in the eyes, his expression deadly. “I completely disagree, Thorin Oakenshield. We are on a quest, yes, but the danger isn’t imminent. The spirit of the company is becoming exceedingly low, and I believe that we should _enjoy_ the time that we are given with each other. We should be able to be _friendly_. We shouldn’t have to worry about training and death every second of every day. Sometimes it’s nice to take some personal time or to talk with friends. If you truly believe that we should focus on nothing but the danger ahead, then _we will be dead before we even arrive at that blasted mountain!!!_ ”

Bilbo was too irritated to address the fact that he had just _yelled at a king_ , and that was probably for the best, because it made him seem braver.

Bilbo stormed back to the company to spend time with his friends and go to sleep for the night.

Thorin be damned. Bilbo didn’t care if he was a king, Thorin was not allowed to tell him why he was on this quest or what he should do with his time.

Bilbo didn’t agree. Bilbo didn’t really care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'M LISTENING TO COME BACK WHEN YOU CAN BY BARCELONA AND I HAVE REALLY INTENSE THILBO FEELS RIGHT NOW AND I'M CRYING.
> 
> Just thought I should share.
> 
> Comments are great, really, they make my day, whether they are positive comments or questions I really just enjoy that some people like the story so much that they takes the time to comment. Same goes for kudos's. 
> 
> Of course, you're not OBLIGATED to do anything you don't want to, I'm just saying I enjoy it.
> 
> ~~
> 
> Also, you know, I really like Fox!Bilbo, so I think I'm gonna make him my thing. I want to write more stories about him, because I feel like I could do a lot. They wouldn't all be on the same timeline, or even have the same plot - for example, no history with Gandalf, or maybe I could go a little further with the familiar and its traits. I'd do smut, fluff, maybe even a few more intense stories but w/ different relationships. 
> 
> ~~
> 
> How would you guys feel if I added some elemental shit into this story? Like if the familiars each had elements that they were attuned with (like fire, metal, air, energy, etc.)
> 
> I want to know what you guys think before I do this because I haven't even introduced anything close to that idea yet and I'm not sure how kind you'll be to the topic. Comment your opinion please!


	6. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So . . . . a bit of Dwalin love because I felt that the time was right. This seems to be the last of the introduction chapters. Now we can finally get moving with the actual story line. I'm VERY excited.
> 
> Also, you know, the Desolation of Smaug comes out in two weeks and I'm crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's a warrior. He's also a big baby.
> 
> I figured that Bilbo could follow up on his badass-edness that we saw in the previous chapter. I didn't want him to be all bark, no bite, so here we are.
> 
> Enjoy!

Bilbo stared at Dwalin, his eyes wide. “ _Today??_ ”

Dwalin nodded, seemingly annoyed himself. “Yes, laddie. It would seem so.”

Bilbo sighed and silently cursed the dwarf king for setting him up like this. He had told Thorin not to do this, and yet His Majesty thought it best to just ignore whatever came out of the hobbit’s mouth. Today, apparently (unfortunately), Dwalin was to complete his first session of training Bilbo. With an axe, a sword, what have you. Maybe even with a slingshot. Any way it was looked at, it wasn’t good. Bilbo had no desire to ever go near a weapon again, and frankly it made him uncomfortable to be around any members of the company because he knew that most of them could be classified as walking arsenals. The least Bilbo could hope for was to avoid getting impaled. Sure, experience was on his side, but it _had_ been a long while and he had no idea if that experience would now be considered obsolete.

He was led by Dwalin to an area that wasn’t crowded by any members of the company save Balin. The old dwarf was busy mending a coat, however, and so was no trouble to either of them.

Dwalin didn’t seem particularly happy to be in this situation, and Bilbo felt his pain on a very intimate level. Bilbo assumed that Dwalin thought him feeble and incapable of aiding them in any fights. Bilbo could understand where he was coming from. Compared to Dwalin, Bilbo was a kitten. Soft around the middle, weak, untrained. But again, Bilbo wasn’t sure how he would fare against Dwalin. He could possibly prove to be surprisingly efficient with hand-to-hand combat, but then again, probably not. There was no telling how this could go.

Dwalin handed him a sword. Probably the best choice for someone of basic skill, as Dwalin figured he was, and Bilbo weighed the object in his hands. It was a bit heavy, and his movements were a bit unsteady, but he swung the sword a few times to get a basic feel of the object. He huffed, nervous and a bit frightened.

Dwalin suddenly pounced, surprisingly agile for someone his size. Bilbo was stunned for 0.4 seconds before deciding that he should maybe defend himself against the very real, very sharp weapon arcing in the air towards him.

He brought his sword up with a mighty swing and winced at the collision of metal between his sword and Dwalin’s. There was a screech as they slid, blade against blade, and Bilbo backed away, his heart pounding.

And so it had begun. Dwalin was constantly attacking Bilbo with lances and overhead assaults, and Bilbo was panicking, unable to heft his sword at such a fast pace as Dwalin. Dwalin’s sword must have been heavier, Bilbo thought, but the dwarf actually had the strength for that. Dwalin was a warrior; at best, the most work Bilbo did with his arms was gardening, and he rarely tended his garden himself.

So, Bilbo learned, he had retained the technique. It was strength that he lacked.

Thorin might have been right after all. Not completely, just the bit about the training.

Bilbo watched from the corner of his eye as Balin stood and walked away. That distraction almost cost Bilbo his arm as Dwalin took another swing.

Bilbo was sweating in rivulets, his curls sticking to his forehead. He was panting, and his arms were growing very weak. But still he fought against Dwalin, parrying every blow and growing increasingly used to the screech of metal on metal.

Balin returned, staying a good distance away from the battle, and he had brought Thorin with him. A few other members of the company appeared behind them, and Bilbo was greatly embarrassed by the amount of eyes that were focused on him.

Dwalin backed away for a few seconds, chest heaving, and let Bilbo recover. Dwalin seemed pretty worn out himself, but Bilbo was almost completely wrecked. He was still standing, though, and he considered that a small victory. His ears were twitching. He didn’t know why.

A small idea nagged at the back of his head, while Dwalin was busy adjusting his knuckle dusters. Bilbo knew better than to waste this chance. It might be the only form of redemption that was available to him.

He charged Dwalin, letting out a roar. Suddenly Dwalin was left defending himself. Swords clashed in a flurry, and adrenaline pumped through Bilbo’s body. He was quick, too quick for Dwalin to catch up with. His tail swished furiously behind him.

He took a step back and landed on a rock, which promptly rolled underneath him and caused his body to fall to the left. After a few dazed seconds, he had enough sense to scrabble back and regain his footing. Dwalin gave a great battle cry and raised his sword above his head.

Bilbo thought this was the end, so in a last-ditch effort he slammed his shoulder against Dwalin’s exposed chest. At the least, he stopped Dwalin’s attack, but that didn’t seem good enough, so he did it again, using all of the strength left in his body.

Dwalin gave a startled cry as he fell backwards onto the hard earth. Bilbo rushed at him and fell atop him, his knee digging into the dwarf’s stomach.

Triumphantly, Bilbo placed his sword at Dwalin’s throat and heaved a breath.

“Looks like I’m the winner. Apologies.” Bilbo wanted to sound cool, but he just sounded as if he was in danger of passing out. Which he was, as a matter of fact. “Oh,” he panted, stumbling off of Dwalin. He dropped his sword on the ground and sat down against a boulder.

The rest of the company was completely silent. Thirteen pairs of eyes stared at him, some in confusion, some in shock, and some in awe.

Dwalin stood, unsteady on his feet, and rubbed his back with a pained expression on his face. It was all drowned out by his admiration, however.

Admiration?

That’s not right. Couldn’t be right.

Admiration it was indeed, Bilbo realized.

“Where – When . . . how did you do that, Bilbo?” He practically whispered the question, too caught up in the amazement of Bilbo’s performance.

Bilbo shook out his sweaty hair, finally gaining his breath back. “I don’t know.”

That was a lie. That was a BIG lie. He knew entirely too well, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell the company that. Not now, not ever. It wasn’t anything that he wanted to revisit, and no one could blame him for that without being unjust.

Dwalin was confused. And so was everyone else. They didn’t believe Bilbo for even a second, but there was quiet speculation that since he had a familiar, there could be a number of skills that he could possess, and sword fighting might just have been one of them. This speculation was complete bullshit, but the company couldn’t be impugned because of their ignorance.

A murmur started up as the dwarrows headed back towards their rest spots. Bilbo sighed. He was never going to hear the end of this one.

He really hadn’t even meant to win the fight. He just wanted to get it over with. But defending himself, fighting the battle, it had been an instinct, and suddenly his body had taken control and he had overpowered the fiercest warrior of the group. He _really_ hadn’t meant to do that. He didn’t even know that he _could_ do that. It was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to most of the other members of the company.

Dwalin approached him warily, and upon invitation from Bilbo sat down on the ground next to him. Bilbo’s ears flattened on his head as he awaited some sort of dwarvish rage.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you could do that, lad?” Dwalin asked him quietly.

Bilbo expected Dwalin to be angry. Dwalin was a formidable warrior in his own right, and for him to be defeated by someone as small in stature as Bilbo, well, it must have taken quite the hit to his pride. But Bilbo felt nothing but kindness emanating from the dwarf.

“Oh, Mr. Dwalin, I suppose that for me to have informed you of this, I should have known first.” Bilbo couldn’t find it in himself to look Dwalin in the eyes.

“That’s a very odd thing not to know about yourself.”

Bilbo found himself chatting with Dwalin for a good hour about the training and even going so far as to set more appointments to train in the future. Bilbo was actually looking forward to it.

As he lay underneath his blanket that night, the only thought that nagged at his mind was the awe-filled expression on Thorin’s face as he had watched Bilbo wield a sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of adding some sort of competition in here - like with the whole love thing that I'll eventually be doing. I'm not sure if Dwalin or Bofur would be the better pick to be Thorin's rival, though.
> 
> Just a way to spice up the story. But no need to worry! This is still a Thilbo fic.
> 
> I don't know. The creative process is hard.


	7. Baggins of Bagend - in a Bag!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so we finally get on with the storyline, and yeah yeah trolls and all that shit.
> 
> Turns out Bilbo knows some shit that he wasn't expected to. I had trouble with tenses in this chapter, so if I fucked up somewhere, please let me know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm sorry that this has taken longer than usual, but come on, I've got finals next week and this really isn't the time for me to be procrastinating with my schoolwork, and now I'm really tired, but I still have shit to do.
> 
> I have so much homework to do tomorrow I am going to cry.

On this night, they were on the east side of Bree, along the border, and next, in the following weeks, they would be on their way to the Misty Mountains. Bilbo knew that it was going to be a perilous journey, one that he saw many members of the company were wary of. This was the time when Bilbo became truly afraid of the choices that he had made.

Bilbo had caught Bofur sharpening his weapons, tensing up at the slightest noise that penetrated his ears. Kili and Fili remained close, as happy as ever but with an air of strain that had Bilbo worried. It was as if they were holding back, and Bilbo could tell that they wanted to protect each other, and possibly everyone in the group. Dori, the strongest dwarf among all the brutes, was training. _Training_. The quaint, tea-loving, mother hen was training with various members of the company to become stronger and sharper. Bilbo did not think it necessary, but then, he didn’t _really_ know what lay ahead of them on their path.

The nights had become quiet, less and less chatter among the dwarrows, and Bilbo was nervous. He had no idea what to do with himself. Supper had been eaten, and yet no one dared to attempt to sleep. No one had touched their bedrolls. Ori and Gloin both looked tired, but for the sake of propriety stayed awake with the rest of the company. Bilbo sat near the fire, sort of next to Nori, and across from Bifur. He couldn’t speak to Bifur. He hardly knew a fraction of the words that escaped Bifur’s mouth. Nori – well, Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure what to do with Nori. The sneakiest one of the group still took the occasional glance at Bilbo’s bum, and licked his lips when Bilbo’s ears turned and twitched. Bilbo wouldn’t put it past Nori to have tossed off to the thought of him, but as a respectable Baggins he refused to make any concrete assumptions. And even if Nori did fondle himself in his bedroll (as Bilbo _swore_ he had heard numerous times), it was no business of Bilbo’s what was on his mind or why he felt the need to do so.

So that left everybody out. Bilbo was disappointed. He didn’t want to seek out company – that seemed weak and desperate, and he wasn’t up for the accusatory glances that might be shot his way if he did. He wanted to sleep, but he found that he wasn’t tired. It might have been the cold night air, or the feeling of emptiness in his mind, but he didn’t feel tired at all.

A screech was heard far off into the distance, and Bilbo jumped. It was almost like a bird, but lower and more savage. Bilbo hopped to his feet and fisted his hands at his sides nervously. “ _What_ was that?” he asked, approaching Kili. Even if the boy didn’t seem up for conversation, the least he could do was answer a simple question.

Kili looked at Bilbo from hooded eyes. “Orcs.”

Fili puffed his pipe. “Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them.”

“They come in the wee, small hours of the night – quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.” Kili was wide-eyed.

Bilbo knew that they were telling the truth, but he also knew that they were messing around with him. Bilbo took a step forward and smacked both of them on the back of the head.

“That’s nothing to joke about, boys. This is serious.” Bilbo looked at him sternly.

Fili and Kili tried to look ashamed, but failed and succumbed to unconcealed snickering. Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh, too. As deadly as the orcs were, he had a mighty feeling that they would be okay. The threat that the orcs posed was nothing compared to the dragon.

“Sure, boys,” Bilbo said. “It’s all fun and games now, but when we are actually attacked, I am going to push you both on the ground and _run_.” Bilbo sat next to them, glad that a bit of joking had caused the air to clear. Conversation started up, among the entire company, and they all seemed amenable to actually get some much needed sleep.

Bilbo chatted with Fili and Kili for a good while before heading to his bedroll. He felt that the energy among the group had been revived, and he felt quite proud that he may have been responsible for that.

He felt Thorin gaze at him, and turned a bit on his side to investigate. He met Thorin’s eyes, and the expression there was indiscernible. Bilbo felt . . . judged, appraised, vulnerable, all at once, but he did not break Thorin’s gaze. He was looking for something, anything, that told him that Thorin felt something other than animosity towards him.

He found what he was looking for, but he wasn’t quite sure he knew what those negative feelings of Thorin’s were being replaced with.

He settled uneasily into his bedroll and stared into the fire.

~~

It was some amount of days later (maybe even weeks, Bilbo couldn’t tell), that they arrived at an abandoned cabin. Gandalf was irritable, to say the least, and he took it out on Thorin. They had something of a row before Gandalf took off, and Thorin was left feeling angry and defeated. Bilbo stared on, wondering just why Thorin and the wizard didn’t get along.

He supposed, though, that none of it mattered. They were all here on a quest. Whatever was between the two would resolve itself or be left alone when everything was done and gone.

Bilbo waited as dinner was prepared, thinking about Thorin, as he was most nights, and how the dwarf king always made it a point to avoid him. Never mind the wizard. Bilbo was hurt. Thorin had no past with him, so why was he so angry?

Bilbo tweaked his ears absently and rubbed at his face. He promised himself that he was going to get a very good rest this night, and nothing would disturb him.

When he saw that bowls of who-knows-what were being passed around, he approached Bofur and smiled agreeably.

“Oi, Bilbo, would you take this to the lads?” Bofur shoved the bowls into Bilbo’s chest hurriedly, and Bilbo huffed. He would have liked some amount of idle chatter; it was just what he needed. But he figured that he’d be nice seeing as how the boys were working on taking care of the ponies.

He trudged on the path over to Fili and Kili, and was surprised at how long the walk took. He hadn’t expected them to be so far away, but there they were, with their backs towards Bilbo, looking very tense and confused.

_What now?_

He approached them diffidently and said, “Boys? What’s going on?”

Kili turned to Bilbo, confusion clear on his handsome visage. “We’re supposed to be looking out for the ponies.”

Fili inhaled. “We had 16.”

“Now there’s . . . 14.” Kili turned back to the ponies.

Bilbo shoved the bowls into each of the lads’ chests and trudged ahead. “Let’s investigate, then,” he said, his tail flicking from side to side excitedly.

Bilbo looked around at the uprooted trees and crushed bushes. “Something big came through here. Something _very_ big. And possibly quite dangerous.”

Bilbo heard faint footsteps a dozen yards to their left, and ducked behind a tree. Those faint footsteps became _very_ loud as Fili and Kili joined him. A giant creature, carrying two of their ponies, tramped by them with heavy steps.  

Bilbo stared in awe and bewilderment. “Trolls.”

He had seen trolls, and fought them, when he was with Gandalf in the Ettenmoors. They weren't supposed to travel this far south, however, and that was a fact that really bugged Bilbo. What were they _doing_ here?

Bilbo followed the troll, crouched low and hid behind trees whenever he felt it was necessary. He lost Fili and Kili somewhere along the way, and silently cursed the both of them, but he knew that they’d be back. He knew how much he was valued among the company. And no one would risk his safety.

He saw a fire, small but bright, in the direction which the troll was travelling. Adrenaline raced through Bilbo’s limbs.

As he drew near to their camp, he saw that four of their ponies were in a small pen made of wood and rope.  The trolls meant to eat the ponies, then. How delightful. Unfortunately, there were three trolls, and the ponies were _behind_ them. He could sneak around, flitting from tree to tree, until he reached the ponies, but what would he do after he most certainly got caught? He did not know what kind of diversion he could make or if it would even work. The trolls were talking amongst themselves, and one was sniffling and farting, so there would be enough noise to cover his arrival and his release of the ponies. He’d figure out what to do once they all ran away.

Bilbo skirted around the camp. He ducked behind trees and crawled behind bushes, his tail wagging in the air like he was some sort of excited dog. His ears were trained toward himself and the trolls, vigilant enough to know whether or not the creatures could hear any sounds he was making.

He crept behind the last tree and dashed across to the pen, his feet making little noise. Carefully, he unsheathed the sword that he had been using to train with Dwalin, and he went to work cutting the ponies free.

He flinched at every scrape of the blade against the rough rope. Whenever a troll would turn its head even slightly, Bilbo ducked behind the nearest pony. His heart was in his throat.

Where were Fili and Kili? They didn’t leave him for good, did they? Three trolls, and the lads decide that he’s better off on his own. What a load of bollocks.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo cut entirely through the rope. He unraveled it as carefully as he could and undid the enclosure.

The ponies ran free, and the trolls were set in frenzy.

One of them turned to watch the ponies, very confused and angry. The other two, however, seemed smarter, as they looked at the source of the escape. They simultaneously clapped eyes on Bilbo.

Bilbo was grateful that they were stunned by his fox traits for a few moments, because that gave him time to make a dash for it.

He didn’t need to run for long, for Kili burst in, slashing at troll feet and giving great battle cries. The rest of the company charged in after him, and Bilbo had never been more grateful to see so many dwarves in his life.

With a cry, he charged into battle with his company.

And that was how they all ended up trapped in bags and about to be roasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I fucked up A LOT around here and also it's 2:30 in the morning and I still have to read a book before going to bed.
> 
> Ugh.
> 
> I hope you at least enjoyed some of it.
> 
> I'm supposed to be writing a Johniarty fic. 
> 
> I'm also supposed to be going to bed, but, uh . . .

**Author's Note:**

> If you have genuinely gotten this far, I love you with all my heart. Comments and kudo's are always welcome. Lots of love~


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